


Knock on Wood

by Rollingjules



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Awkward Flirting, Chronic Illness, Getting Together, M/M, POV Shiro (Voltron), Past Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Pilot Shiro (Voltron), TrickOrSheith, Urban Legends, Witch Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27173183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rollingjules/pseuds/Rollingjules
Summary: Adam never wanted Shiro to go on the Kerberos Expedition. “You’ve never been that far north,” he’d said, “There’s no way to know how your condition will respond to such an extreme climate. What if you have an episode, what if you need a doctor? Are you just going to lie there in agony until they can fly a helicopter up to the base? That could take hours, days! God, Takashi, have you even thought this through at all?”If you walk into the woods at three in the morning, legend says the Witch of the Woods will find you. They say she grants wishes, but she’s got a real messed up sense of humor and she’ll make you regret it.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 130





	Knock on Wood

**Author's Note:**

> written for Day 5 of Trickorsheith, Trick side prompt Witching Hour! It was so much fun coming up with prompts together with @mahoughouls, this is my final fic before we hit up the grand finale on Halloween, check out the official twitter @trickorsheith or the #trickorsheith tag feed to see everybody's amazing works!!!! This has been such a fun time, I hope you all had even half as much fun as I did!

_If you walk into the woods at three in the morning, legend says the Witch of the Woods will find you. They say she grants wishes, but she’s got a real messed up sense of humor and she’ll make you regret it._

_That can’t be real, that’s bullshit. Don’t you think someone would have noticed if there was some old woman out there doling out magic and fucking up people’s lives?_

_I dunno man, my great-uncle went to visit her when his girlfriend dumped him to ask the witch to make her to love him again, and my grandma says he was never the same after that._

_Dude, didn’t your great-uncle die in a car accident in like, 1965?_

_Exactly! He DIED, man, the witch made him pay the price for his wish!_

_Whatever, bro, still smells like bullshit._

_That’s what you think! The witch is real, she’ll fuck you up! Spend the night in the woods if you’re so sure!_

Shiro has everything he needs. He’s got his hiking boots on with his good circulation-enhancing wool socks underneath, his backpack has trail mix and energy bars and a few doses of his medication, just in case. Flashlight, first aid kit, water bottle, towel, emergency radio. His portable battery pack is fully charged, as is his cell phone. He might be on a wild goose chase, but he’s still about to walk straight into the middle of the woods in the dead of night. Whether magic exists or not, he means to be prepared.

At 2:40 AM, he gets in his car and drives to the park just a few minutes from his house. It’s a short walk to the edge of the field, where the manicured grass and park benches end and the forest begins. The trailheads all branch off from there. He’s got no plan, no partner, and no life insurance, but that just means he doesn’t have anything to lose, either.

By 2:57 Shiro is staring at the dark treeline, the moonlight reaching just a few feet into the darkness ahead of him. Watching the minutes tick by on his watch is agonizing. It’s three minutes too long to be alone with his thoughts.

Adam never wanted Shiro to go on the Kerberos Expedition. “You’ve never been that far north,” he’d said, “There’s no way to know how your condition will respond to such an extreme climate. What if you have an episode, what if you need a doctor? Are you just going to lie there in agony until they can fly a helicopter up to the base? That could take hours, _days_! God, Takashi, have you even thought this through at all?”

Oh he’d thought about it, alright. Takashi Shirogane was on a short timetable to live his life the way he wanted, and he wasn’t about to stop short just before he achieved his biggest goal. It was more than just his childhood dream, now – more than just a love of the idea of adventure, exploring the far-flung places of the world and seeing new things. This is months, if not years, in the making. He’s part of a team now, a team that was scheduled to leave for Anchorage in just under two weeks. A team that is relying on him to be at his best and pull his weight and contribute; all of which he is fully capable of doing, thank you very much. But looking at the band on his right wrist, Shiro bites his lip in quiet frustration.

It’s a bad time to feel a flare-up coming on.

When his watch beeps three times at the top of the hour, Shiro squares his jaw and hikes his backpack up on his shoulders. He’s going to see for himself whether the local legends are right, if the rumors have any grain of truth to them. He’ll pay whatever price, he’ll deal with whatever consequence; as long as he can make it through this year-long expedition he’ll put up with whatever some musty old crone can cook up for him. Torture, horrific death, who cares? If his medically-trained team of pessimists is to be believed that’ll happen to him anyway, sooner or later. He deserves to get to live his life how he wants to first. And, possibly more spitefully, he deserves the chance to prove Adam wrong.

Stepping into the darkness feels like a blanket of shadows falling over him, and not just because the moonlight doesn’t reach here. It’s like the whole forest is watching him. He’s got bear spray and two lungs that can belt it out with the best of them, he’s not worried. He’s jogged these trails before. But he can’t help but get the feeling somehow that they don’t just _look_ different at night.

Shiro’s got his flashlight on the lowest setting, not only to conserve battery but also to avoid attracting unwanted attention. ‘Gored by deer’ is not how he envisioned his twenties ending, if he’s being honest. He follows his favorite trail, the six-mile, deep into the woods. It’s shaped like a teardrop, and heads a little over two miles in before rounding out and turning back. That’s as good a place to start as any; he might be doing something ill-advised and reckless, but he’s not outright stupid. There’s no way he’s leaving the trail.

No sooner than he can finish that thought, he hears a voice echoing off the trees. It’s coming from somewhere just outside his view, even with the flashlight turned all the way up. The path is narrower here, only dedicated hikers and runners like himself making it this far out. He’s in the bend now, he thinks, somewhere around the halfway point, but he’s not keeping to his usual pace and he has no sun or landmarks to judge by and it’s only his best guess. He strains to listen, the whistling of the forest breeze covering up what might have been words, might have been a shout. It’s hard to tell.

Just as he’s about to keep moving, he hears it again. It’s close, and before he can think to talk himself out of it he’s stepping off the well-trod path and into the brambles.

It doesn’t take long to find the source of the voice. He sees lights ahead through the trees and there’s a sound he doesn’t fully recognize. It’s like a wet hissing, familiar at the edge of his mind but something he can’t quite place. He comes to a break in the treeline, nudging his way past thick leafy branches and poky fronds, and steps into a little clearing. There’s a squat little house with a clay tile roof and vines crawling up the walls, lined with flowering hedges and trellises of strange plants. The light is coming from green-tinted floodlights at opposite corners of the house, illuminating the clearing with an eerie tinge.

There’s a man standing to one side of the house, but Shiro can’t tell what he’s doing. He’s flabbergasted that there’s a house here at all – he’s jogged this trail hundreds of times, and never once had he seen, heard, or even thought there might be someone _living_ out here. There’s no car and no driveway, not even a gravel path. The house just sits low in the clearing, its strange occupant with his back turned to Shiro.

The hissing sound is coming from the man himself. Shiro’s not sure what to make of it, but decides it’s best he not stick around to find out. Luck isn’t with him, though: as he moves to take a step back into the forest, he backs straight into a tree branch. The rustling of all the leaves alerts the man in the clearing to his presence, and Shiro’s heartbeat pounds in his ears in panic.

So much for heading back to the car.

The man turns, and Shiro is shocked to find that he’s beautiful. He looks at Shiro curiously, and Shiro’s rooted to the spot by his stunning gaze. There’s a scar on his right cheek, and even in the green tint of the outdoor lights his dark eyes shine, almost reflective, like a predator. His hair is black as the darkest obsidian, curling gently at his shoulders where it falls free. He’s wearing slim jeans and a black v-neck shirt, and one hand is tucked casually in his pocket.

In his other hand, he’s holding a garden hose. The hissing noise Shiro’s hearing is the sound of the hose spraying water onto a modest garden bed. This stranger is just watering his plants, and Shiro’s barged onto his property in the wee hours of the morning.

 _This is how people get shot_ , he thinks to himself. And although his brain is very attuned to self-preservation in this moment, his mouth hasn’t caught up.

Like it usually does, his curiosity gets him into trouble.

“What are you doing out here?” Shiro asks in bewilderment.

“…I live here,” he states plainly, like it should be obvious. And it is, in a way. The house is right there, bizarre as that is. It doesn’t make Shiro any less speechless, though.

“Oh, are you here to ask for something?” asks the man. He perks up somewhat, looking interested.

Shiro shakes his head quickly. “No, I don’t need any help. I’m not lost. Or, I didn’t think I was… I didn’t think anyone lived out here, to be honest. This _is_ inside the six-mile loop, isn’t it?”

The stranger arches an eyebrow. “Well, yeah.”

That’s good, at least. He’s not _that_ turned around. He’s not sure what to say, but just walking away doesn’t feel like the thing to do either.

The man turns back to his plants, crouching with a soft grunt. He carefully lifts up the leaves of something flat and reddish-purple to spray the roots lightly with the hose, his thumb controlling the flow.

“If you’re here to ask for something, that’s okay you know. You don’t need to be nervous.” He’s not looking at him, minding his work, but Shiro gets the sense he’s supposed to take that as an invitation. For what, though, he’s unsure.

“How have I never seen you before?”

“I mean… I’m not here in the daytime.” He says slowly, once again like it should be obvious.

“I jog this trail all the time, and I’ve never seen this place.” He feels like he would have seen the house. The trees aren’t _that_ thick in this part of the woods, and the clearing isn’t _that_ small. There’s a whole garden in here – multiple gardens, now that he’s looking around. With strange plants that he’s never seen before, hanging gourds and low-drooping flowers with a spicy, citrusy aroma that gets stronger when the wind blows.

The man seems to be out of patience for him, now that he’s noticed that Shiro’s glancing around being nosy. “Well if you didn’t come here to see me, then what are you doing out here? It’s like four in the morning.” He glances pointedly at Shiro’s hiking shoes from his crouched position, scanning up his body as if asking why Shiro is dressed for a long day in the woods in the middle of the night.

It makes Shiro blush. Both the attention of a handsome man, which he hasn’t had in a long time, and the fact that he’s been caught doing something very childish.

“You’re gonna laugh.”

He looks at Shiro flatly. “Try me.”

“I’m…” he braces himself, cringing in anticipation of the mockery he’s about to make of himself. He would make something up, but he’s a terrible liar. It doesn’t help that he’s got a weird feeling in his spine like he should tell the truth.

“I’m looking for the Witch of the Woods.”

He’s prepared for the stare he gets, but he also thought it would be a lot more… judgmental. Mostly it looks like the stranger isn’t sure what to think. He’s squinting slightly, mouth slipping open just a little as he scrutinizes Shiro openly. What he’s looking for though, Shiro isn’t sure.

“…What do you think you’re doing right now, then?” the stranger asks, in slight disbelief.

“Trespassing?” he guesses, sheepish. “I’m not sure what else I’d be doing, honestly... Like I said, I didn’t know anyone really lived out here. I just saw the lights and I heard a voice so I came to see. It’s stupid.”

With another soft huff, the dark-haired man rises to his feet. He stares at Shiro again, upright this time. When Shiro doesn’t say anything, he puts a hand on his hip, still gently spraying water with the hose in the other. Only this time, he doesn’t break eye contact.

“…What?” Shiro asks, nervous and self-conscious. He’s not sure what he could be missing here. He’d be worried the guy called the cops and is just stalling, but he hasn’t left his line of sight once, let alone taken out a cell phone.

“ _I’m_ the witch of the woods.” At this point, Shiro feels like matter-of-factness is just his default mode of communication. But he’s also just said something very absurd.

“Wh- you can’t be the Witch of the Woods, you’re…” Shiro trails off, self-conscious once again, but his mind supplies any number of qualities that disqualify him. Young, normal, real, _male_ , all things the Witch of the Woods certainly is not. He’s really regretting his earlier impulse to trot out into the woods and prove whether magic is real out of spite for an ex-boyfriend.

“I’m what?” he asks, almost haughty. “What would you know about it?”

Shiro frowns. It’s odd for him to take offense, all things considered.

“The Witch of the Woods is a sadistic old woman from a fairy tale.”

“Why do you keep saying it like that?” the man demands, irritated.

“Like what?” Shiro grouses, unaware of whatever faux pas he’s committed now.

“You say _Witch_ of the _Woods_ , like it’s a title. Like it’s a name,” he scowls. “I’m a witch, who takes care of these woods. I’m a witch of the woods, not a shitty Hollywood movie.”

 _What in the_ … “I don’t understand what the difference is. We’re saying the same thing.”

“No, it’s the way you say it!” He brandishes the hose, talking with his hands. The man seems keen to argue, and Shiro’s really not sure why. He seems too pretty to be an axe murderer, but then again, they say serial killers can be very charming… Doing the math, being in a strange part of the forest with a strange man with strange opinions in the middle of the night seems like a bad idea right now. Maybe he can grab the bear mace in his backpack if he’s quick about it.

“It doesn’t matter, the Witch of the Woods is an urban legend anyway and it was a dumb idea to come out here in the middle of the night, I’m leaving now. Goodbye,” Shiro says, puffing out his chest. The guy isn’t that much shorter than him, but Shiro’s strong and muscular and he can press that advantage if he has to.

“Oh my god,” the man sighs, throwing his hands up in resignation. “You’re unbelievable. If you didn’t think it was real what are you even doing out here, then?”

If he’s waiting for an answer, he’s not going to get one, because Shiro’s not listening. He’s staring at the hose, which the man had tossed from his hand, and is now floating near his elbow. Water flows out of its nozzle like it’s _not_ currently defying all known laws of physics.

The man gives Shiro a funny look, but he seems to realize what’s got him gaping and his expression turns smug. “Oh, yeah? Not so opinionated now, are we?”

“It- what’s-”

“Mhm. Thought so.” The man seems pleased with himself. “If you think that’s wild, then check _this_ out. Hey buddy?” he calls, seemingly to the forest itself rather than Shiro.

There’s a soft popping sound, like sparks and the crackle of a low fire, and suddenly a _massive_ beast appears by the stranger’s side. Shiro gapes, backing up and losing his footing on the roots of a tree. He lands on his ass, trembling slightly despite his best attempt to stay still and unnoticed by the huge animal. It looks like a wolf, but it’s more than twice the size of even the biggest dogs Shiro’s ever seen.

“Did you have a good hunt?” the stranger asks the creature, skritching under its chin. He’s fearless, smiling affectionately at it while Shiro looks on in horror, staring at teeth the size of his fingers. It snuffles in the man’s hair and licks his face, getting only laughter out of him. Shiro’s too frozen with fear to appreciate his smile. He hugs the giant wolf tight around its furry neck, having to reach up to do so, and Shiro is horrified that anyone would get so close to something like that so completely voluntarily.

Its fur is dark, almost blue in the green outdoor lights, with lighter patches that reflect the light like a glow. Its eyes are sharp and focused, and though it looks at the man with something like affection Shiro has seen regular dogs bite with less provocation. It’s innately terrifying to see something so large and threatening, but the man from the clearing seems completely unfazed.

The wolf continues to sniff at him, but its ears perk up and it lifts its huge head to look up – directly at Shiro, who’s still on the ground. He’s unable to stop the tiny gasp of air he takes in at being stared down.

“Do you wanna go make friends?” asks the man, like he’s talking to a terrier and not a monstrosity.

To Shiro’s horror, the giant wolf lopes over to him, crossing the clearing in a few easy strides. He braces himself for the pain of a gaping maw crunching into his bones, ready to be torn apart –

But the pain never comes.

The wolf is sniffing him intensely, almost studious as its large snout roves over Shiro’s ears, hair, neck, pressing into his armpit. It smells his belly, walking in a slow circle around him. Shiro can’t take his eyes off the huge paws that pad the ground dangerously close to his all-too-vulnerable human legs. The claws at the ends aren’t sharp, but they’re big enough he doubts it would even matter. His stomach lurches as he feels a tug, then a sharp yank, and again feels death loom over him… But with the hiss of a zipper, he realizes the wolf has opened his backpack. It shoves its whole face in, scrounging in the contents.

“H-hey!” Shiro objects as he’s jostled around, but realizes that this distraction is the closest thing he’ll get to an opening. He slips the straps from his body and heaves himself to his feet. He jumps back, ready to bolt, but the creature seems fully occupied crunching into the trail snacks he’d brought with him.

“Aagh, no! Bad boy!” The man storms over after him with balled-up fists and a stiff frown. “Drop it!”

The wolf lifts its head and lets the backpack fall off, looking at its companion morosely. It looks alarmingly like a regular dog caught in the kitchen trash.

The man scolds him, swiping the backpack and feeling around inside with one hand.

“Seriously? You even ate the plastic bag? Oh my god, and the wrappers too? Don’t blame me when you have stringy shits tomorrow, I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

Shiro feels like that should be the least of their worries, but the man turns to him before he can devise his escape plan.

“Sorry about the slobber, it should wash out.” He hands over Shiro’s backpack which is, as it happens, caked with drool and crumbs of energy bar.

“But… there were raisins in the trail mix,” he objects, dazed.

The man seems surprised at that, and he smiles. “Oh, don’t worry. He’s only technically a dog, he’ll be fine. Won’t you, boy?”

The creature gives a low bark, and Shiro’s not sure if the ground really shakes beneath them or if he imagined it. He’d rather not think about it.

“So, are you convinced yet?”

“Uh. C-convinced of what?” They weren’t really talking about anything, aside from the wolf.

“That I’m the witch you’re looking for. Have I convinced you yet?” His hands are in his pockets, but he looks at Shiro expectantly.

“Oh. Um,” he hedges for a moment, collecting his thoughts. He’d honestly forgotten about it. Being so close to a giant dangerous animal had fully occupied his mind. His eyes wander over to the garden when he spies movement, and it turns out the hose is now watering the different plants completely on its own. It slithers like a snake over to the trellises along the house, and begins watering there as well.

“Hard to argue with… all that,” he decides, though he’s really not sure of anything at all right now.

“Good, then we can get to business. Come inside.” He gestures to the house and leads the way. When he gets to the front step, the door opens of its own accord.

“You- you did that on purpose!” Shiro protests, slackjawed with awe.

The witch of the woods smirks at him over his shoulder. “Maybe.”

“…You’re not going to throw me into the oven, right?” Shiro asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.

The witch snorts, unimpressed. “You came to the wrong witch if that’s what you wanted.” He steps into the house, waiting pointedly for Shiro to join him.

Chided, Shiro’s cheeks pink a little. “I mean, I just… I’ve never met a witch before. All the legends say the witch who lives around here makes people pay the price for asking her for anything. Horrible deaths, and stuff.” Which, incidentally, he finds himself suddenly much more able to picture, as a long snout shoves into his backside and pushes him up the steps.

“Oh, her. Yeah, she was the witch of the woods around here like five hundred years ago. You’re good.” He waves his hand dismissively as he walks into a small kitchen.

That’s… not the answer Shiro was expecting, but then nothing tonight has gone the way he expected. “No… relation, I hope?”

He laughs. “Nope, no cosmic forces of darkness in my woodpile. Just regular hedgefolk.”

He says it like it’s a joke, but Shiro’s not laughing. “Oh… that’s… good?” He supposes?

The pact is made that very night. The witch, whose name is Keith, eventually pries Shiro’s reason for coming out of him. He wants a year of guaranteed good health, free of flare-ups, to see him through his arctic assignment without any setbacks.

“I know it’ll come with a cost, I know nothing is free,” he says with conviction. “This is important to me. I’m willing to make whatever sacrifice you want me to make.”

“Is that all?” Keith asks, surprised.

Shiro was under the impression that he was asking for a medical miracle, not borrowing a cup of flour from a neighbor.

“Isn’t that kind of a lot? It’s a whole year,” he repeats. Maybe Keith didn’t hear him right.

“You’re not dead, and you’re not dying. You’re asking to stay how things are right now. That’s easier than you think.” Keith stands from the kitchen table and goes to the fridge, rummaging for a moment before producing a jar of thick honey.

“I haven’t even told you what’s wrong with me,” protests Shiro, once again confused by what seems to him to be an extreme oversimplification of his situation.

“You don’t need to. Not for something like this, anyway. It’s really better if I don’t know, it means I won’t be messing with as much.” He sets the honey down on the table in front of him and retakes his seat across from Shiro.

“What’s this?” Shiro eyes the jar with open interest. He’s no expert, but the honey inside looks tasty.

“It’s for you. You should take it with you when you go to the arctic, you’ll want to have a spoonful or two every day depending on how you feel.”

He frowns. “And this’ll last me a whole year?” He looks at the jar, which looks to be a repurposed jam jar with the label peeled off. It’s not _that_ big.

Keith chuckles. “Of course not, this is just to get you started. I’ll be sending you more from time to time.”

Shiro’s not planning on sharing the specifics with him, much less a mailing address. Keith seems friendly enough, but he’s still a stranger. “Really? How’s that?”

“I think you’re forgetting about somebody,” Keith says with amusement.

As if on cue, the wolf appears in the kitchen with a cloud of pollen, shaking his fur and making Shiro sneeze with the explosion of yellow dust. Keith is unimpressed, frowning at it.

“Seriously? You have no manners. It’s like you left and came back just to do this.” He picks a leaf out of the wolf’s fur as it stands crammed into the tiny kitchen, his ear tips pressed down by the ceiling. “Go shake, _outside_.” Keith points out the kitchen door, and the wolf gives a morose huff and plods out, nudging the door open with his nose.

“As I was saying, I think we’ll be able to sniff you out.”

Shiro blinks. “Oh my god. Was that a pun?” A grin blooms over his face as he realizes Keith is holding back a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Oh my god, you’re perfect.”

Keith’s eyes go wide, a dusting of color that has nothing to do with the pollen covering his cheeks. Shiro, realizing what he said, has the decency to blush himself.

“I just meant- um…” He’s got nothing. He trails off, embarrassed.

Still a bit pink, Keith forges ahead bravely. “That reminds me, we need to talk about payment.”

“Oh, right. I can pay actual money, but I don’t think it works like that.” Shiro thinks of the bills in his wallet, now covered in magic wolf slobber.

Keith makes a noncommittal noise. “I mean, it can. Money has power, in the sense that it’s worth the hours of work put in to get it. It’s like a shorthand for saying you worked for me, kinda. But I… might have had something else in mind.”

_Is it just me, or is he redder than he was a minute ago?_

“What is it?” Shiro asks, hanging onto every word.

“So… when you get back from the arctic…” Keith is fidgeting in his chair, his shoulders moving cutely. “Would you go on a couple dates with me?”

Shiro’s jaw drops. “I- I mean I’d, I’d go on a date with you now!” It’s out before he can stop himself. He’s not stupid, Keith is gorgeous, and so far at least not a serial killer. And he doesn’t seem to think Shiro’s better off living his life in the long-term care unit, which should really not be part of his dating metric but that’s apparently something he has to think about now, thanks to Adam.

Keith is smiling as Shiro stammers through it, biting his lip a little to hold it back. He seems shy when he’s not talking about magic. But he sighs afterward, and the smile leaves his face.

“I’d love to, but it doesn’t work like that. You’ve got to get what you asked for first,” he explains regretfully.

Shiro’s brow furrows. “Do you think you’ll even still want to go on a date with me a year from now?”

 _Wouldn’t be the first time someone had second thoughts_ , he thinks darkly. Plus, Keith is a fucking dream come true, he’s got to have people lined up around the block to romance him.

Keith laughs, a soft little breathy huff. “I don’t know if you’ve seen the neighborhood, but there aren’t exactly a lot of eligible bachelors around here.”

The wolf nudges the door open and lays his massive head down on the kitchen floor, whining with his ears pinned back. Keith rolls his eyes, slinging an arm over the back of his chair.

“Not you, buddy, you’re a very handsome boy. Aren’t you?” he asks, half babytalk and half exasperation.

The house shakes underneath them, ceramic plates rattling in Keith’s cupboards. Shiro realizes the wolf’s tail is thumping against the back porch outside.

When Shiro leaves, he’s got the honey in his backpack and a nervous excitement in his chest, something he’s not used to feeling when he’s not thinking about his arctic year. Keith sees him to the edge of the forest after a walk in companiable silence. It’s comfortable, and that’s something else Shiro’s not used to. He finds himself really looking forward to those dates. Keith will probably change his mind the first time Shiro has a bad flare-up, or worse – if his condition deteriorates overall. But until then, he can be happy with what he’s gotten himself. As he prepares to say goodbye, the beginnings of sunrise just peeking over the trees, he pauses.

“Hey. Um… how did you know to have this ready for me before I even got here?” he asks, jerking his thumb toward his backpack.

Keith looks thoughtful for a second, like he’s deciding on what to say. After a moment, he speaks up. “I don’t really know how to explain it to you, but it’s like a feeling I get. I’ll just be doing my thing, and I’ll get the urge to make something, or whip something up, or go looking for a plant somewhere. It’s hedgefolk intuition, mostly, runs in the family.” He shrugs.

Shiro’s always been a good judge of character. Sometimes people surprise him, but for the most part he can suss out whether or not people are really genuine. And Keith is, _overwhelmingly_ so. He decides he trusts him, likes being around him. Keith has a warmth to him that Shiro wants to gravitate toward.  
  
“Works for me.” He smiles.

They say their goodbyes, Shiro turning back toward the field in the park and Keith heading back down the six-mile trail. He hears a deep yip, and when he turns around to look Keith is gone, presumably chaperoned by a giant teleporting wolf creature. Shiro’s mouth curls into a disbelieving smile, amazed at what the world is like now that he’s found out a little bit more about it.

He’s got something to look forward to in a year.

**Author's Note:**

> Shiro and Keith exchange letters, delivered by Kosmo with Shiro’s honey refills. Shiro eventually convinces Keith to buy a computer, and he’s delighted when he receives an email from a ‘hedgekeith123’ late one night when the sun is still up and the blizzard is howling outside. When Shiro gets back from the yearlong research trip, Keith is waiting for him at the airport and they immediately go out for lunch, Shiro sweating profusely in the chilly October weather.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!! Happy Halloween, and happy trickorsheith!!! I always love hearing from y'all, it makes my day even if it's just a heart or a keyboard smash. X3 You can find me on twitter at @lioslegbelts! I've been posting my art for trickorsheith over there as well, plenty of seasonal sheithly goodies to see!


End file.
